I didn't have to work yesterday so after helping my uncle a bit with his walnut grove, I gathered the six kids that live at home and we went to check on the state of the mulberry crop. The first tree we went to gave us our first ripe berriother the year. As it is a small tree, no one got more than one or two. What it gave in abundance though was excitement for mulberries are our favorite berries. We hurried on to the next tree and it too had a few so by now we are really charged up. We went to Youngblood's cow pasture where he has a couple trees,one small, one large and both of which are lonely, isolated trees in what is otherwise a vast, pastured expanse i.e. full sun baby!
We checked the small one first - LOADED! But to tall to reach from the ground and not big enough for more than a couple kids to climb. I boosted a couple up and left them in purple-lipped delight as the rest of us sought greener pastures. (he he he - I made a funny.)
As we approached the big tree, we could see em hanging LONG before we got there. Looked like bunches o'grapes they were so thick. I've been eating mulberries now for a few years. And what the pear was to fruit, the mulberry was to berries - discovered late in life and once so, they became the instant favorite. I know where every tree is within walking distance and where a whole bunch of others are within driving distance from my home. All the kids love em as much. They regularly report on new mulberry tree finds. The list is always being added to (and, sadly, occasionally subtracted from). But of all the mulberry trees I know about, all but two are either in full shade or on woodland edges. Only two fruiting specimens I know of receive full sun. And that whole thing that Plants For A Future says about a tree being shade tolerant but not fruiting heavily unless in full sun is SO true. Cause as we approached this large tree, standing in full sun, I gained an image that will likely be etched in my mind for all time. I've never seen so many ripe mulberries on one tree. We grabbed a few off of the only low limb the tree has, gave them all to the six-year old, gave him my hat and up the tree we all went minus the six-year old. The two we left in the previous tree made quick work of its small stature and were soon perched beside the rest of us. To anyone that might would have happened upon us, I'm sure we looked like a troop of orangoutangs. And to be honest, I felt kinda orangoutangish.
There were plenty of times one of us would be hanging upside down with arms and legs wrapped around strategic strong points as we pressed all sorts of issues to get to those morsels of syrup used to enliven the taste of ambrosia. We gorged ourselves. The hat left with the six year old was to give him something to hold up so we could drop berries to him which we did often but not nearly often enough for his tastes. And they better not ask Daddy to help them get one they can't reach because one of two things would happen: I'd eat it myself or drop it to the little one with the hat.
"But Daaaaaaaa'aaaaaaaad!"
"Learn to climb better and you could have gotten it for yourself. I didn't go to the trouble of climbing this here tree to feed you."
We next hiked to the creek, (the banks of which was the scene of my recent snake wrangling) to check on the trees there. Most had good fruit, some of which was unreachable without potentially damaging the tree but a couple had really heavy crops that we were able to strip bare of ripe berries.
All total, we hiked for about three hours covering probably 5 miles in the process. Actually, four of em hiked 6 miles. My oldest daughter and I took a detour to go get a replacement swamp chestnut oak seedling and while we were thus engaged, the rest found a mud hole and got so muddy I wouldn't let back in the truck.
And the Collins kids are a wee bit harder. One step closer to the Spartan ideal.